dear uncle sam and friends,
no taxation without representation
the battle cry of old school terrorists
can someone tell me who represents:
people of color
those stamped convict
the dykes and fags
the old woman eating cat food to buy medicine
those unable to read
those unable to write
junkies with jobs
the families living in junk yard cars
the single mother of a disabled child
hell, the disabled child
the mentally ill
the pious without jesus
where is their representation
who is speaking for them
is there one person standing tall
marginalization of the marginalized
no interpreter of legalese available
leaving us drowning in confusion
the pretty paper and preamble
the bill of rights-dead and stinkin
nothing eliminates the smell of a dying soul
legislation passed revoking fundamental liberties
war crimes against kids in new york, new york
suffocation by jalapenos
buying big guns and big bombs and big tits
mcdonalds the corporate sponsor of red white and blue
koch brothers footin the bill paying for exemptions
spending $0.75 of each tax dollar on death
while blaming it on the poor needing food
prisons built turning profits with every criminal
the future home of the lower class guaranteed
lack of education
lack of community
lack of family
the child that sits on a cot among rows of cots
placed there because mommy and daddy had a plant
the classic art sold to the masses
declaring war on drugs the most profitable option
there is plenty of return on that one, bob!
war on terror is justification of genocide
bombing the ill
“oops! my bad!” and a prefab press release
where are my representatives insisting ceasefire
where are the great minds of government and golf
deemed more capable of speaking my truth than i am
it can’t go on
destruction and death
the shattering of families
no meaningful prevention
no meaningful rehabilitation
just the metamorphosis from desperate to psychopath
just distractions and justification of oppression
this reasoning is so ridiculous that my eyes are crossed and i feel the need to smash a brick over this guy’s head! i am utterly beyond disgusted at this! i really really really wish that these rightwing idiot dicks would please learn a bit about prenatal development! sorry a fetus is not even a fetus for the first like 6 weeks, there is no brain until 20 weeks and no, i mean no, neuroprocessing until 24 weeks. on top of that they have no consciousness it’s reaction to stimuli, not any decision making! are you kidding me? a fetus can’t feel shit until 24+ weeks, and don’t think there is any state in the union sanctions post 24 week abortions unless there is a medically necessary reason-fetal or maternal distress-and even then it’s considered birth not abortion and the fetus will be treated like a premature newborn. they have gills or what passes for gills! are you kidding me???
my belief is that if a guy can get away w raping a woman, i can get away with cutting the balls off of every single guy who’s name starts with “l” shoving them in his ears because at least then i am killing anything.
boys and girls children of all ages just step right up
welcome to the fun-filled carnival of hate and slavery
take an adventure into the exotic house of horrors and lies
don’t forget to check out the new exhibit-pariahs on parade
to the left, get cup of cyanide and grape flavored drink
we are proud to offer a chance to win the competition
the name of the game is “happy murder, happy day”
the first three shots are free, then it’s time to pay
the cost is cheap, endless tries for your humanity
just aim and pull the trigger, simple as can be
easy peasy lemon squeezy, even no need to think
send the hatred hurling, hit the beggars bound in chains
a broken face and broken will the beautiful red dripping
forming tidal pools, the more they bleed the more you win
what are the prizes, you ask, this is only for today
you shot down one, you take it home, mount it on the wall
it only gets better from there, the more you hit and fall
the more you win as you climb toward the big score
i see you salivating as you inhale the smell of death
grand prize if you take them out, a clean shot through the head
lucky you! we’ll string you up so the next one shoots you dead
fresh off the presses
it’s nice to meet you
i see you are gay
don’t worry, i am accepting
i once knew a woman
who had a cousin that was one
you know he was
then i read a book
about timmy and his two mommies
and before i threw it in the fire
i thought how timmy must feel
and i was a bit concerned
but only because if he had
two mommies who taught
the poor child to pee standing up?
i am an expert on all things gay!
once there was a black man
who worked in the warehouse
he was good for a black guy.
we weren’t friends, but we talked occasionally.
i heard some of that martin luther king jr speech.
i am an expert in being a person of color.
there was one day, i talked to a muslim woman
she told me her beauty is a gift
i told her to take the damn scarf off her face
and get with the program of the new world
this isn’t the 19th century anymore.
a tear fell from her eye and became a stain
on the mask she chooses to wear
no man or god can tell me what to do!
i did see that documentary over
the prophet muhammad on the history channel
i now an expert on all things islamic.
one day i was getting into my prius
my sweet sweet hippie-mobile
with the proper amount of bumper stickers
showing my progressive politics
letting everyone know how
radical i am in my efforts to
change the world making it a better place.
i read this article on the ozone layer
i am an expert on all things ecological
a black man who was obviously on crack
came and asked for some change.
he said he was hungry and all
though he was skin and bones
his face ghostly, gaunt, quite ashen
there was no way i was going
to help this man buy more drugs
i saw an intervention once or twice
i am an expert on all drug use.
one day i was walking through the park
and this thing passed me on the hiking trail
it was a shim-you know a man dressed like a woman
obviously not a real woman, the walk releasing
all the secrets attached to his genitals
i changed courses and caught up to him.
i told him i just had a few questions
“so do you have a you know…penis?
where do you put it? is it really little
and that is why you dress like a girl?”
he broke into a run for some reason
it seemed almost as though he
didn’t want to tell me
what’s going on in his pants
but i am entitled that information
i have gone to a drag show
they are really funny
i am an expert on all things transvestite.
another day i was driving to the grocery store
and the cars were going less than 20 miles an hour
it was so slow, and really i had somewhere i needed to be
i had no time for this nonsense
i switched lanes and saw a man in a wheelchair
puttering down the road holding up traffic.
there aren’t sidewalks, but i doubt
he really needed to be somewhere
bad enough to hold up traffic
one day i read a book about a woman
who lost her legs in an accident.
i am an expert on all things disabled.
i don’t see the trouble
i don’t understand what these people
have to be upset about.
i have known oppression
i was born with a vagina and not a penis
not even a nubbin of a penis
is quite horrible, but i smile through
it’s only natural for men
to oogle me
it makes me feel
i have been able to swim
the river of oppression
and i have had it much worst
than those others who chose
to not blend in
their personal identity being counted
i am an expert on all things oppressive!
so if all those people would just shut up
at least try to look normal
stop being so weird
life would be much more simple
there are gay conversion clinics
organizations teaching muslim women not to submit
the trannies decide to go into public like that
there are drug rehab facilities
the cripples are looking for sympathy
the poor need to stop being so lazy
my difficulty is unavoidable
my oppression is the real deal
i am sick of people wallowing
in the “poor me” mud
that it is their choice
to be knee deep in anyway
but no one can understand
the pressures facing the
white middle class educated employed married
heteronormative cisgender woman
my barrel is overflowing with turmoil
there is no one coming to my aid
my oppression beats those others
in size, weight and density.
what they need is to stop being such
whiny asses especially when
they brought it all on themselves
-to win the three-legged race for being the most oppressed. grand prize the beautiful cardboard crown, a blue ribbon, and a sash.
i think next year i should get the grand prize trophy
one pig two pig
red white and blue pig
tell me how does the pig
find harmony, you dig?
what does it take to be free
opening my eyes and just to see
my oppression is caused solely by me
decisions to stand up and to fight
for what i tell me is right
i will not succumb to the horrors and fright
fighting for all
some big and some small
skinny, fat, stumpy, tall
it’s time to get up and sing
“let freedom ring
to hell with the king!!”
let the prisoners go
demanding justice all night and day-o
kick and scream until all masters fall down, yo!
when i read or hear or talk to others about revolution, it is spoken like it is some action to be taken in the future. when the idea of stopping discrimination by bucking the oppressors of “minorities” is said as though the oppressors have a headquarters set up somewhere, and one day the oppressed-anyone who is not wasp, rich (mindlessly rich-never paid a real bill rich),cis-male, heterosexual-are going to jump in their environmentally sound machines and turn the joint over, stealing our power back bc they took it away and keep it in a floor safe under lock and key guarded by a cerberus-like hellhound on pcp!!! i run this through my mind as they are talking or i am reading and see it all play out usually in silent anime form with loads of jitsu, cleavage and beams of light. but when i am alone and i think of these concepts my reality is a bit different.
everyday is a revolution. it is not something that is going to happen someday somewhere maybe. it is something i do daily. it’s thinking, living, breathing, wanting, and loving my way. it is living w other creatures in a productive atmosphere. it is dancing when i have no legs, singing when i have no words and defying gods of the social constructs. it is doing what is right for no reward except to do what is right. it is laughing even when i am poor, it is walking down the street in the rain holding the hand of the woman i love even when they told me not to. it is making decisions based on morality that is not up for debate. revolution is waking up everyday and being me.
noone controls my power! noone can take my power from me! they can try to convince me i have no power or the power i do have is insufficient, but that only works if i believe the lie that someone else knows what is best for me better than i do. when i decided to not wait for permission, i became in control of my power, and i can only be oppressed if i give up my rights of my own will.
we have choices. we all do. we all have different choices than the ppl next to us. we all have potential. we all have power. i chose to make a mark. i chose to make my voice be heard. i chose to never live in a shadow or a cave. i will not give up my power to anyone else. i have inherent worth and dignity-we call do, noone needs to tell us we are important bc we just are! because of the choices i have made, my fingerprint is on mankind, as small as that seems in relation to other’s, it’s still there. i will never leave the same fingerprint as ghandi, but why would i want to? i leave my own! through my children, through my friends, through my family, through my actions, through my words! i live my revolution this moment!